


Home

by zaynsbitxh



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Distance, Gay Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Oblivious, Oblivious Liam, Oblivious Zayn, Phone Calls, Promises, Smut, Songlyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:26:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynsbitxh/pseuds/zaynsbitxh
Summary: The five times Liam promised to come home and the one time he actually did.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> The bold words are lyrics from the song "I don't wanna live forever" sung by ZAYN and Taylor Swift

**“Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four wall, hoping you’d call”**

 

Grinning, Zayn stared at the clouded room, his eyes barely making out the many people surrounding them, their chatting and laughing filling his eyes.

Between his long, slender fingers tangled a joint he leaded to his plump lips from time to time.

“He will kill ‘ya mate.”

Black hair appeared in front of him and plumped down next to him, making Zayn groan.

“Fuck off, will ’ya?”

He was far too relaxed to be talking.

He could hear him chuckling, as his cheeks hollowed once again, sucking in the thick smoke before releasing it, tilting his head to do so.

His eyelashes drew shadows on his cheeks as they fluttered in satisfaction.

“Does he know?”

The pumping music sent chills down Zayn's spine, blaring through his ears and making him dizzy.

“Hmm.”

He hummed in satisfaction, blinking at the black haired guy in front of him.

Not bothering to raise his head as he offered him the joint.

_Take it or go._

A silent agreement as Zayn watched the boys red lips close around the stick, sucking until the white smoke started stroking his sharp features, dancing around his jaw and kissing his tanned skin.

And god, those brown eyes.

Zayn watched him in hunger.

They reminded Zayn of _him_.

His tongue touched his bottom lip, moistening it, as he leaned forward, locking their gazes as he inhaled, filling his mouth with dizziness and hovered his lips over the young men’s red ones, exhaling, until the smoke creeped its way to the parted lips in front of him, sucked up by those beautiful cheeks.

Humming, Zayn felt their breaths entangling, before they collided, open mouthed kisses planting on each other’s mouths as Zayn started licking his way into the man’s mouth.

He was in control.

He always was.

Breathless moans filled his ears and he felt slim fingers tugging at the roots of Zayn's hair strands.

Not compared to his rough, strong fingers.

He moaned at the thought of _him_ , aggressively smashing their mouths together again, trying to fuel the fire in his chest, like _he_ did, but he knew it wouldn’t work. It never did.

“Zayn-”

Quieting the man’s moans, he slipped his tongue in his mouth again, not liking the sound of his name on his tongue. It wasn’t as rough voiced as it was supposed to be.

With a voice like honey.

His hands slipped to the man’s neck, pulling him closer, as he felt his left pocket starting to vibrate, making him pull away abruptly. Ignoring the protesting groans of the man whose name he didn’t care to learn, he looked at the bright screen, grinning devilishly, as he saw the flashing name on it, blinking on the black caller - ID.

His fingers pressed the button to answer without hesitation, as he leaned back, stealing the girl’s joint next to him.

She was too drunk to even protest.

Still grinning, Zayn pressed the phone to his ear, not flinching to the roaring voice shouting against the pumping music.

_“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Malik?”_

Relaxed, Zayn moistened his lips, the joint tangling between his fingers.

“Throwing a party, you sucker.”

He could hear him growling furiously, which made him grin even more, feeling the blood rush to his cock.

God, he loved it, when he could hear his voice like this, trembling with anger.

_“This is still my fucking apartment, too, Malik and just because I’m not in New York right now, doesn’t mean, I can’t kick your sorry ass!”_

Zayn closed his eyes, slowly starting to palm himself through his rough jeans. He could nearly see him, standing there, clutching his strong hands to angry fists, his muscles bulging.

_“Hello?”_

Zayn's lips parted, a low moan slipping his lips, as he pictured his sharp features in front of him, smirking at him with the same lust filled expression on his face.

_“Zayn - hell, are you touching yourself?”_

Zayn noticed the slight crack in his voice and sucked in the thick white smoke once again, knowing that he wasn't the only one staring down at his bulge, a groan of frustration on the tip of his tongue.

But sometimes he couldn’t help himself.

_He deserved it._

His voice was rough as he talked.

“Why do it myself if you have enough company to have it done?”

Liam sucked in his breath, probably shaking with anger.

Zayn nearly purred.

_Say it._

_Say it, Liam._

_“That’s it, Malik-”_

Liam's voice was more a growl as Zayn could hear his unsteady breath.

_“That’s fucking it, I’m coming home.”_

 

_\--_


	2. Two

**“I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home.”**

 

**  
** Zayn couldn’t sleep.

 

Not since  _ he  _ left.

 

Not since he promised to come back soon.

 

And didn’t.

 

He groaned in frustration, fisting the white sheets that covered his bare chest. The chill night breeze kept sending shivers up his chest, making it impossible to sleep without somebody being pressed against his back.

 

Somebody, fucking him into sleep.

  
Somebody holding him.

 

_ Somebody. _

 

“God!”

 

Groaning, Zayn turned his head, looking at the empty pillow next to him. Two pillows, one blanket, one bed.

 

Something was missing.

 

_ He  _ was.

 

Frustrated, he sat up, eyeing the prominent bulge pressing against the soft material of his pants.

 

_ Always frustrated. _

 

_ Needing his touch. _

 

Zayn moistened his lips, leaning against the wooden bedframe, slipping his fingers past the elastic fabric of his boxers.

 

_ Needing to release some friction. _

 

_ God, he needed him. _

 

Slowly, his fingers wrapped around his length, feeling the hot skin against his cold fingers.

 

Slowly, he started to pump, closing his eyes, imagining it being  _ his _ fingers, stroking against the pulsing veins along Zayn's hardening shaft, imagining it being his thumb, stroking over the leaking precum, moistening the tip of his cock.

 

_ Liam… _

 

Soft moans filled the air, as he bit on his lower lips, drawing blood as he fastened the pace of his fingers, his hips bucking, thrusting against his fist, blood rushing through his veins.

 

_ “Fuck, Liam, right there.” _

 

Gritting his teeth, feeling himself harden underneath his fingers, but no satisfaction coming out of his fast pumping.

 

_ It just wasn’t enough. _

 

He stopped his motions.

 

Removing his hands, he felt himself pressing against his painfully tight boxers as his fingers started searching for his phone, not being able to make out anything in the dark but the slips of moonbeams leaking through the curtains.

 

“Fuck-”

 

Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the mattress again.

 

He needed his phone.

 

Again, he leaned over to his night drawer, finally feeling the cool material under the touch of his fingers.

 

He released a breath of relief, squinting his eyes at the sudden bright light flashing, as he turned on his phone.

 

His sight was blurry.

 

Scrolling, scrolling, looking for his name.

 

_ Finally. _

 

_ Fucking Payne. _

 

His head landed on the flattened pillow behind him, huffing in annoyance as he waited for the constant beeping to end.

 

_ Fucking answer it already. _

 

Again, he pulled down his sweats, gripping himself with a harsh grip, stroking over the moistened slit.

 

_ “Hello?” _

 

Liam's voice was scratchy, thick with sleep, and Zayn's eyelids fluttered as a shoot of lust ripped through him, making him moan loudly.

 

_ “Zayn?” _

__  
__  
Again, his voice fought it’s way to Zayn's ear and he fastened his pace, his eyes closed now.

 

“Fuck, Liam I - I need you.”

  
  
His voice almost as scratchy as Liam's, filled with lust and need as he heard the boys heavy breath.

 

_ “Zayn - it’s in the middle of the fucking night!” _ _  
_

 

“I know”, he breathed, throwing his head back, moaning again, as he squeezed his erection, luring tiny moans to leave his parted lips.

  
“I know, Liam, but  _ fuck _ I’m hard.”

  
  
A short silence, followed by a heavy sight, trailing off into a groan.

 

“You’re as hard as I am, Liam, admit it.”

  
  
Zayn could almost see him in front of his eyes, laying in bed, his hard erection laying against his tanned stomach.

 

“You need me as much as I need you, your hands, your hot lips around my cock-”

  
  
_ “Yes, fuck, Zayn, I miss you.” _ _  
_

 

He could hear Liam panting, knowing he too had started gripping his hard length, frustrated of being alone.

 

_ So alone… _

 

“Tell - tell me, Liam, talk to me, I -  _ fuck _ -”   
  


Zayn pressed his eyes together, his fingers pumping up and down his pulsing cock, feeling the heat of his skin and the throbbing friction that sparked every time he heard Liam talk.

 

_ Talk. _

 

_ “Zayn - fuck where are you, tell me where you are.” _ _  
_

 

Voice breathless, dripping with lust.

 

Zayn bit his lip, suppressing his moans.

 

“I’m in my bed-”

  
  
He couldn’t bring the  _ our  _ past his lips.

 

He simply couldn’t.

 

“Fuck - I’m so hard, hard for  _ you _ , Liam, fuck I wish you’d be here.”

  
  
Their groans mixed and Zayn could hear Liam's pumping motions, feeling his cock throb.

 

_ “I’d fuck you so hard you couldn’t stand anymore, Zayn, just - fuck you through the n-night until you beg me to stop, I -” _

__  
__  
His moan was almost aggressive.

 

_ “You’d be so tight, s-so ready for me, so needy for m-my fucking cock buried inside you-” _

 

He stuttered, his words making Zayn sqeeze his length, feeling his orgasmn approach and making him roll his eyes in pleasure.

 

“Fuck - L-Liam I’m going t-to-”

  
  
He panted, groaning, slamming his head against the wooden bed frame behind him, not caring about the slight pain rushing through his dizzy head.

 

_ So close.... _

 

_ So close… _

 

_ “Cum for me, baby.” _

__  
__  
Liams whispered words, ending in a moan, brought him over the edge and made his hips buckle, as he felt the warm liquid dripping on his stomach whilst he shut his eyes, suppressing his scream by pressing his hand over his mouth.

 

Breathless, he then leaned back, closed his eyes and rubbing over his face, as the other line grew silent too, their entangled breath being the only noise.

 

It nearly took Zayn a minute to come back from his high, feeling the darkness of reality creep back again, making it’s way to him as he looked at the empty pillow beside him.

 

_ It was his pillow, even though they never admitted it. _

 

_ Denied it. _

 

_ Denied the truth. _

 

_ Silence, was what they lived in, never talking about it. _

 

_ The sex. _

 

_ The entangled bodies. _

 

_ The kisses, too sweet to be caused by lust. _

 

_ He was scared. _

 

_ And so was Liam. _

 

“I - Liam, I-”

  
  
_ I miss you. _

 

“I think w-we should sleep.”

 

He rubbed over his face tiredly, clenching his jaw in frustration.

 

_ “Yeah.” _ _  
_

 

“Yeah.”

 

They remained quiet for a second, Zayn suddenly afraid Liam had hung up.

 

But he could still hear him breath.

 

“Liam?”   


 

_ “Yes?” _

__  
__  
Zayn fought back the urge to scream, shutting his eyes closed.

 

“Come back home soon, yeah?”

 

Liams voice was quiet.

  
  
_ “I will.” _

 

_ \-- _


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited

**“I gave you something, but you gave me nothing.”**

  


“Fuck!”

  
Groaning, Zayn stared at the forming burn mark covering his left palm, dropping the spoon immediately. The rushed air started cooling his hand immediately, as he covered his hand with a towel, hastily turning off the oven before slowly putting out the lasagna.

 

He then raised an eyebrow, eyeing the red mess inside the form, but then shrugged, placing it on the counter. It smelled weird, looked weird and tasted weird, as Zayn chewed on a bite, but he was sure Liam didn’t mind.

 

_Liam._

 

_Liam fucking Payne._

 

He shook his head, grinning.

 

_That little piece of shit was finally coming home._

 

And fuck, Zayn looked forward to holding him again.

 

First, he had started laughing, nearly tripping as he had thrown away his phone, next, he had started panicking, before calming down again, letting the joy consume him.

 

He didn’t even care anymore, that he was too happy and his heart beating too fast, if Liam was nothing to him, like they told each other after every kiss, after every left mark and after every nights spent in the same bed.

 

Because maybe, just maybe, he was more.

 

Zayn eyed the table, taking in the moment.

 

_Five minutes._

 

He was supposed to arrive in five minutes and Zayns entire body started tingling, the burning in his left hand slowly fading away.

 

_What would he look like?_

  
_  
_ What would he say?

 

_Was it too much?_

 

Suddenly the decked table with the two candles didn’t seem as chilling as it had been before and Zayn gulped nervously, his thoughts racing.

 

_It looked like a date._

 

_He didn’t want that._

 

Two plates, two glasses, one bottle of wine and two candles.

 

_Too much?_

 

He didn’t know.

 

His fingers started rubbing against his forehead.

 

_Everything was far too complicated._

 

 _They_ were complicated.

 

Liam was.

 

And he was too.

 

His gaze stayed glued to the clock.

 

It ticked.

 

Loudly.

 

_He was late._

 

Zayn controlled his anger.

 

_He would be there soon._

 

Zayn ignored the building frustration.

 

_He would come._

 

_This time, he would._

 

Tick.

 

Tack.

 

_Ten minutes._

 

Zayns hands started shaking, his eyes squinting.

 

His thoughts swirled around in his head, thumping and pressing against his hurting head.

 

_He would come._

 

_He had to._

 

He jumped, as his phone started vibrating.

 

_Once._

 

_Twice._

 

It stopped.

 

A message.

 

He couldn’t stop his fingers from shaking, as he unlocked his screen, tapping on the received messages.

  


**Got caught up in work,**

**won’t make it 2day**

  


After that, a second text.

  


**M sorry, m8**

  


Zayn stared at the screen with a blank face.

 

He read the message.

 

Again.

 

And again.

 

Word after word.

 

The grip around his phone tightened as he got up, slowly walking towards the table.

 

_The two plates, the two glasses, the one bottle of wine and the two unlit candles._

 

His phone landed on the floor.

 

Screen facing the ceiling, as Zayn started shoving off the plates, making them fall to the ground with a loud crash, breaking in several pieces.

 

The loud noise did it.

 

It fueled the fire, burning in his veins

 

It made his angry thoughts overrule.

 

It made anger overrule his pain.

 

He exploded.

 

Glasses, forks and knifes landed on the wall as he pulled off the white tablecloth, ripping it in pieces with his left hand exploding in raging pain, the burned wound pulsating.

 

He didn't notice the hot tears wetting his cheeks.

 

Tears filled with pain.

 

Tears filled with frustration.

 

Tears filled with hate.

 

Again and again, he threw his fists against the wall, blood trickling down the back of his hand as he grabbed a chair, throwing it against the drawer next to the door, making one of the legs break as it swept away the pictures on the drawer.

 

_The picture of him._

 

He threw it against the wall.

 

Red wine was dripping off the table, red like his burning blood that covered his hands when he fell on his knees, fisting his hair as he tried easing the raging pain in his chest.

 

_Why did it hurt so much?_

 

_Why was his chest on fire, burning with every heartbeat?_

  

He hated him.

 

With every fibre of his burning soul.

 _  
_ Zayn screamed, at the top of his lungs, letting frustration take him over and not noticing as the display of his phone flashed, a message popping open, in the middle of the trashed eating place.

  


**I’ll be home soon, Zayn,**

**I promise**

 

**\--**

 


	4. Four

**“What is happening to me?”** **  
**

  


Zayn turned his head, drunkenly staring at the blurry faces in front of him.

 

The alcohol burned in his blood, made his sight fade, only to come back and fade again seconds later. His head swayed back and forward and he didn’t dare moving as his hands clenched around the bar.

 

Cool material against his fingers.

 

He grinned, slurring something even he didn’t understand.

 

Clinking class.

 

His skin burned.

 

_What was he doing here?_

 

He didn’t know.

 

Squinting his eyes, Zayn stared at his feet, his fingers drawing lines on his leg.

 

_L._

 

The music started to get louder.

 

_I._

 

His eyelids fluttered and he grinned, laughing quietly.

 

_A._

 

Without a reason.

 

_M._

 

Again, again and again.

 

The same lines over and over.

 

He remembered.

 

 _Liam_ had kept calling him.

 

Eventually giving up.

 

Because he wasn’t supposed to care this much.

 

Zayn remembered.

 

He remembered his anger.

 

The fire raging through his blood.

 

The cuts, the broken glass.

 

He had to drink again.

 

He had to forget again.

 

It hurt.

 

He hated it, the pain.

 

His eyes watered as lights started flashing his face, dancing across his features, making him squint.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

He mumbled, turning his head, as the bartender looked at him in a strange way.

 

Didn’t he see the lightning beams making Zayn squint his eyes to tiny slits?

 

He slid off his chair, tumbling away from the bar, almost crashing in a guy in a black coat.

 

He could hear him scream.

 

He didn’t really care.

 

He just kept going.

 

His feet seemed to wobble as he wanked from side to side, his fingers looking for the door handle. He needed privacy.

 

Privacy.

 

No, he needed his phone.

 

Stumbling into the men's room, he disturbed a couple toring at each others clothes, looking at him in a startled way before leaving the room in a rush.

  
Again, he didn’t care.

 

He simply pressed the phone to his ear.

 

It wasn’t his old one.

 

He’d thrown it away, after he stopped calling.

 

Not wanting to care, that he didn’t.

 

_“Who’s this?”_

 

His voice was too loud in his ear.

 

He sounded annoyed.

 

Zayn wanked, avoiding the gaze into the mirror and sinking down on the floor, stabilizing himself as his back hit the wall behind him.

 

“L’m you motherfuck’n son of a bitch.”

  
It was hard, forcing the words out of his heavy lips.

  
_“I - who the fuck is this and why do you have my number? If this is a joke-”_   


“Y’know what’s a joke?”

  
Interrupting him and getting annoyed with Liam, Zayn pressed the phone against his lips, giggling quietly.

 

“Me, ‘m a fuckin’ joke.”  


Liam hesitated, the other line quiet, before he answered.

 

_“Zayn? That you, mate?”_

 

Zayn scrunched his eyebrows.

 

“Mates? We ain’t nothin’ you lyin’ fuck!”

  
He could hear him sigh.

 

 _Sigh_.

 

He hated hearing him sigh.

 

So much.

 

 _“Zayn-”_   


“What’s with that _Zayn_ thing, huh? ‘m no longer Malik to ya, huh?”

 

Angered, Zayn interrupted him again.

 

That sighing son of a bitch.

 

_“You’re drunk aren’t ya.”_

 

Zayn rolled his eyes.

 

_No shit._

 

“Didn’t leave me no choice, did ya?”  


_“Where are you, Zayn?”_

  
He ignored his question.

 

“You know, I actually looked forward to seein’ your ass.”  


He chuckled with a cold expression on his face.

 

“Actually thought you’d really come this time.”

 

_“Zayn-”_

 

“No!”

  
He slammed his fist against the cold floor, wincing slightly.

 

“I won’t listen to any fuckin’ lie out of your damn mouth again! All you do is lyin’ your fuckin’ ass off and I’m _tired_ of your shit!” 

 

Zayn found himself panting heavily, his back facing the dirty wall, his head dizzy.

 

_“You’re tired of my shit?”_

 

Liam sounded angry, his voice changing to a harsher tone, his loud voice ringing through his drunken thoughts.

 

 _“Am I the one who throws parties every fucking weekend, until the neighbors ring my cell to threaten me with sueing me? Am I the one who blames other people for having a fucking job? Fuck no, I’m not, because that’s all you, Malik! You’re the one who keeps getting into trouble until I have to fly back to save your ass from jail!”_ _  
_

 

He didn’t know.

 

Liam didn’t know.

 

That he kept doing these things to make him fly back.

 

To have him by his side.

 

Liam didn’t know.

 

“You don’t know shit ‘bout what I do.”

  
Liam's harsh words overruled the pain caused by the volume of his voice and he clenched his hands to fists as Liam continued talking.

 

_Shouting._

 

 _“Yes that’s right, I don’t know shit and to be honest, I don’t even want to! I’m tired of the shit you get into! Fuck, I’m tired of having to save you every damn time, Zayn! And before you blame me for things I can’t fuckin’ change, start getting your life together for once!”_   


Zayn knew these words.

 

These exact words.

 

The words, that made his fingers end the call without hesitating once as hot tears started to wetten his cheeks.

 

They kept leaving his eyes, as he started at the wall in front of him, throbbing pain setting his chest on fire.

 

_He hated the pain._

 

_He hated, that it hurt._

 

_He hated him._

 

_So much._

 

Zayn's fingers tugged at his own black hair strands, banishing the shameful thoughts.

 

How he should’ve studied English Literature like he planned to.

 

How he shouldn’t have disappointed his family.

 

How he should have told Liam the second he saw him.

 

He should’ve told him.

 

His phone started ringing.

 

Zayn picked up without hesitation, breathing his sobbing breath into the phone as he heard Liam's thick voice.

 

He sounded like he was crying as well.

 

Zayn hated him.

 

But somehow, he didn’t.

 

_“I’m sorry Zayn, I - I wasn’t thinking a-and I shouldn’t have ignored the fact, that y-your mum-”_

 

“That she used the same fuckin’ words to throw me out of my - my own home? Yeah, right.” 

 

Zayn huffed, before closing his eyes, his tears covering his tanned skin like hot raindrops.

 

_“I’m sorry.”_

 

“I know. I am too, y’know, I miss her.”

 

_“Your mum?”_

  
Zayn gulped, sniffing, as he wiped his cheeks dry with the back of his tattooed hand.

 

“I - s’just that I’m so alone, Liam. I’m so alone-”

 

His tears stopped running over his cheeks, but dry sobs made his lips tremble, his words shaky and weak.

 

_So fucking weak._

 

“And it gets worse when you - you’re not here and I - I just-”  


His voice broke and he hated the weakness in his words, the power of this short sentence, that Liam could hold against him, now that they’ve been said out loud.

 

 _“I - Zayn, I-”_ _  
_

 

Zayn could hear him breath, his voice quiet, all anger soaked up by the pain in Zayn's voice.

 

 _“I’ll come home, you know? I will.”_ _  
_

  
“How can I believe you?” 

  
Zayn was whispering the words, his eyelids growing heavy and his tongue paralyzed.

 

“How can I ever believe you again?”

 

Liam sighed.

 

_“You can’t.”_

 

Zayn's vision started blackening from time to time, the world around him spinning.

 

“But you’ll come home, right?”

  
  
_Come home, come home, Liam._

 

_“I will.”_

 

His voice soft.

 

So soft.

 

_“I promise, Zayn.”_

 

\---


	5. Five

**“Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life”**

 

Liam fisted his hair angrily, nearly shoving the bunch of papers surrounding him off the table. The reek of cold coffee, stress and exhaustion was filling the air, making it hard to breathe whilst the soft light shedden by the moon was being sucked up by the bright light filling the office.

 

It was too bright for Liam's liking and it hurt, every time he blinked.

 

Tears poured at the brim of his brown eyes, pain ripping through them, as he watched the numbers and letters in front of him blur into a discomforting, black and white mess.

 

He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, before his fingers drove over his tired face, his head pounding and hurting.

 

But he couldn’t stop.

 

He had to finish what he’d started.

 

As usual.

 

Sometimes, he hated his job.

 

More than anything.

 

More than he hated Zayn.

 

Because he did hate him.

 

Not all the time, but he did.

 

For fucking with his head.

 

His thoughts.

 

His heart.

 

_ “Fuck!” _

 

His loud, frustrated scream fought its way through the thick air, followed by his fist slamming on the wooden table.

 

It was too much.

 

He couldn’t take it.

 

As much as he wanted to.

 

As much as he tried to.

 

Again and again, he had put work before everything.

 

Before his friends.

 

Before his family.

 

Before everything he cared about.

 

Everything he longed and craved for.

 

_ Everything. _

 

He stared at his table.

 

Papers, tons of papers.

 

Letters, emails and prints covered the wooden table, white and messy like thick snowflakes that fall without caring. Without a pause.

 

But Liam could still see the photographs.

 

The two photos, buried underneath the paper work, only a small corner visible, but still, he knew they were there.

 

One, of his family.

 

A happy grin on their faces.

 

Arms linked.

 

Showing love.

 

A lovely picture.

 

A slight smile captured Liam's lips, disappearing as he pulled them out and stared at the second photo.

 

Liam wasn’t on it.

 

Neither was his family.

 

Nor his friends.

 

For the person, he captured on it, wasn’t a friend of his.

 

The picture was a snapshot, taken in secret, to capture a bit of the blurring reality he had lived in.

 

Pink lips, an angry frown, features blurred but still visible to people who knew him.

 

Black hair, nearly soaked up by the night’s darkness.

 

Tanned and oh so soft skin, kissed by the blurry lights around him.

 

An angry frown covering his brown eyes.

 

It was raw.

 

It was pure.

 

Filled with anger.

 

And maybe something more.

 

Liam couldn’t stop staring at him.

 

_ Zayn. _

 

He was beautiful on his own way, taking his breath every time he looked at him.

 

Whether his face was covered by anger, admiration or desire, there had always been a hint of fascination of the angelic features the boy wore like it was nothing special.

 

Like he was ordinary.

 

Liam huffed.

 

Zany was far away from being ordinary.

 

Extraordinary annoying.

 

Extraordinary irritable.

 

Extraordinary beautiful.

 

And fuck, Liam didn’t mean to call him beautiful but he couldn’t help it.

 

He never could.

 

Again, he stared at the picture.

 

They had gone clubbing that night.

 

At least they had tried to.

 

He chuckled, remembering the teasing, the constant flirting with other people, only to make each other jealous.

 

Angry.

 

And, fuck, they had torn at each other that night.

 

Releasing the anger, the jealousy, the desire in their endless kisses, bites, moans, thrusts, until they went higher and higher.

 

Liam shuddered at the thought of Zayn's lean but small body against his and he started missing him again, even though he had forced himself not to anymore.

 

Because it hurt too much, thinking of him.

 

Thinking of the guilt, for leaving him alone.

 

Thinking of the pain in his voice, every time he called.

 

Thinking of the silence since his last call.

 

Again, Liam's fingers rubbed over the skin covering his forehead, his headache growing as he stared at the wall next to his door.

 

It would be so easy to leave.

 

Leave the piles of work.

 

The stress.

 

The loneliness.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

He couldn’t disappoint his family.

 

He couldn’t disappoint himself.

 

Even though he craved for listening to his heart for once.

 

“Sir? I - I’m sorry, Mr Payne, I - I knocked and you didn’t-”   


 

The small head of his assistant disturbed his thoughts as she carefully entered the room, nervously staring at the floor, her hands shaking slightly.

 

Liam sighed.

 

He didn’t know why she was afraid of him, really.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you knocking, Angela.”   


 

She nodded, her blonde head bouncing, before she tugged a loose hair strand behind her ear, still not looking at him.

 

“I - um, Mr Warren w-wanted me to tell you that he’s still waiting for - for your preparation a-and-”   


 

“What preparation?”

 

Slightly annoyed, Liam interrupted her, making her squint, before blinking wildly.

 

Maybe, Liam knew, why she was afraid.

 

He had been very short tempered, since his last visit home.

 

_ So long ago. _

 

“Sir, y-your preparation f-for your new c-case, sir.”   


 

_ No. _

 

“I don’t have a new case.”   


 

Angela squeezed her blue eyes shut, before eyeing the ground nervously.

 

“Y-yes you do, I - um, t-this weekend.”   


 

Liam's features turned to stone, making the young woman start to shake.

 

“I can’t lead a case this weekend.”   


 

He raised, his fingers balled to fists.

 

“I was supposed to have a  _ break _ this weekend!”   


 

The vein on his neck started popping out as he tried not to scream.

 

Angela looked like she might faint any second.

 

“H-he s-said that y-you’ll l-loose your j-job if you - if you won’t-”   


 

She didn’t have to finish the sentence to make him realise, what his boss had threatened him with.

  
“You can go.”   


 

His voice quiet.

 

The second the door snapped close, Liam broke down, falling to the ground, his back colliding with his table.

 

His breath was ragged and his hands shook as he ran them over his face, his lips trembling and his body filled with exhaustion.

 

Endless exhaustion.

 

His head rested on his knees, his hands hugging his legs. Liam closed his tired eyes, nightly black hair, olive skin and sparkling eyes in his mind.

 

His dry, chapped lips whispering hushed words again and again.

 

_ I’ll come home. _

 

_ I’ll come home. _

 

_ I’ll come home, Zayn. _

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

_ \--- _


End file.
